He privily told all of his intent

Unto a man, whom to his wife he sent.

A kind of sergeant was this serving man,

Who had proved often faithful, as he'd found,

In matters great, and such men often can

Do evil faithfully, as can a hound.

The lord knew this man loved him and was bound;

And when this sergeant learned his lordship's will

He stalked into the chamber, grim and still.

"Madam," said he, "you must forgive it me,
Though I do that to which I am constrained;
You are so wise you know well, it may be,
That a lord's orders may not well be feigned;
They may be much lamented or complained,
But men must needs their every wish obey,
And thus will I; there is no more to say.

"This child I am commanded now to take"—

And spoke no more, but seized that innocent

Pitilessly, and did a gesture make

As if he would have slain it ere he went,

Griselda, she must suffer and consent;

And so, meek as a lamb, she sat there, still,

And let this cruel sergeant do his will.

Suspicious of repute was this same man,

Suspect his face, suspect his word also,

Suspect the time when this thing he began,

Alas! Her daughter that she had loved so,

She thought he'd slay it right there, whether or no.

Nevertheless, she neither wept nor sighed,

Doing the marquis* liking though she died.

At last she found her voice and thus began
And meekly to the sergeant then she prayed
That, as he was a worthy, gentle man,
She might kiss her child once before his blade;
And on her breast this little child she laid,

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